


Chocolate Surprise

by sidewinder



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Chocolate Box Exchange Treat, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-18 04:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9368429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: What's better for a Chocolate Box exchange than a story about John, Fin, and some extra-special chocolates?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ApexOnHigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApexOnHigh/gifts).



_October 2016_

After an exhausting, more than twelve-hour work day, Fin felt relieved to be home at last. He’d been working harder than usual these past few weeks, trying to put in extra hours now so he could take some time off when Ken and Alejandro’s baby soon arrived. It didn’t help that they were still short-staffed at the 16th, and there was no replacement for Sergeant Dodds in sight. Both ’Liv and Amanda were busy with their own kids these days, too, so Fin often stayed on late so they could get home in time to spend some quality time with their children. It was something he’d wished he’d done more of himself, when his own son had been that young.

He didn’t mind, except that he did like having at least some time every day to spend with his _own_ loved ones. Namely, these days, that meant John. And whenever they did manage a few moments together at the end of the day lately, John was trying to help him prepare for the upcoming sergeant’s exam. If he earned that promotion, maybe the SVU Department Chief would finally deign to assign Manhattan SVU a new detective or two. That was motivation more than almost anything else for him to finally go for it, despite years of denying interest.

But Fin frowned as he unlocked the door to their apartment and discovered it dark inside, and completely silent. With John retired from active police work and having moved on to a less-demanding job at the DA’s office, he almost always was the first one home at night. Yet it was almost nine o’clock and, as Fin took a look around, he saw no signs of his husband being there. John wouldn’t be in bed already, unless he wasn’t feeling well...which would be further reason for concern if that were the case.

Fin was about to call out for the man and check the bedroom when he remembered—and felt stupid for forgetting their morning conversation. John had told him he would be out tonight, and probably until quite late.

 _“An old friend from my journalism days is in town this week. Someone from way back before I ever contemplated the idea of becoming a police officer,”_ John had told him as they’d rushed to dress for work. Mondays were never easy mornings to get moving, so maybe that’s why Fin had been distracted and forgotten all about it until now.

_“You mean, back when you were a hippie pot head?”_

_“And proud of it! My friend Max never stopped flying his freak flag and still wears the paisley with pride. Now he’s got a book out on the the lasting legacy of our pharmaceutically-experimental generation.”_

Fin had snorted while digging around for a matching pair of socks in their eternally unsorted laundry pile. “ _That oughtta be a quick read.”_

_“I’m meeting up with Max for lunch today. Then he’s got a reading at the Barnes & Noble on the Upper West Side this evening. I assume you wouldn’t have interest in joining us.”_

_“Understatement of the year,”_ Fin had muttered, but he had been just teasing. Well, mostly. _“Figure I'll be late home tonight anyway, so go have fun—long as I don’t end up having to bail the two of you out of jail in the morning.”_ John was always the more social of two of them, anyway. When it came down to it, Fin was happy enough to spend most of his nights at home relaxing with a beer, some sports on the television or playing video games to unwind, and John keeping him company when it was finally time to get to bed.

_“Fine. I’ll probably stop home after work to charge into something more suitable for the occasion.”_

Mystery solved as to the quiet and empty apartment, Fin turned on the lights, hung up his coat, and wandered into the kitchen to see what—if anything—was there to eat. He’d shared a sausage and pepperoni pizza with Carisi at lunch time so he wasn’t especially hungry. Still, he did feel like something light so he wouldn’t get the munchies later on. In the fridge he found most of a take-out Greek salad and the remnants of a rotisserie chicken which had been Sunday evening’s supper. Two-thirds of an apple pie, too. He decided to go for the salad since he could pick at it while seeing if the Monday night football game was anything worth catching past the first two quarters tonight. And then he wouldn’t feel too guilty if he went for some of the pie later on.

Heading in to the living room, he sat down on the sofa and turned on the tv, flicking through the channels until he landed on the game. Putting down the remote on the coffee table, he noticed a large gift bag sitting there. He didn’t remember _that_ from the morning, or over the weekend. Curious, he flipped the tag dangling over the side to see who it was from, and whom it was for.

 _John,_  
_Here’s to the old times,_  
_and high times of youth!_  
_Max_

John must have dropped this off after work, Fin realized, and being nosy he decided to see what was in the bag. First was a copy of the book, which Fin looked over with about as much interest as he showed for any of John’s more out-there reading material. Then a bottle of wine, a reserved- _le-grande-_ -something-something from California. He was no connoisseur, but it looked like a wine to save for a special occasion. Last in the bag, Fin found a box of candies—fancy-looking truffles, in fact. They were elegantly decorated with glimmering gold dust and colorful swirls of red, blue and green.

The truffles smelled delicious...but Fin put them back in the bag. Maybe he’d help himself to a taste, though, after finishing off the salad. After all, John was the one who’d left him here by himself tonight. Fin thought he deserved a chocolate treat for not complaining about that.

The football game was turning into a bust—Jets versus Cardinals, and Arizona was kicking ass. He finished the salad and tossed the container in the kitchen trash, debated the apple pie, but then decided to sample one of those chocolates instead. They’d simply looked too good to leave sitting there untouched. He pulled the box back out of the gift bag, chose one of the twelve candies at random, and took a bite.

Rich dark chocolate and a strong taste of hazelnut hit his tongue, and as he swallowed...something else, a little more funky? The taste was familiar in a vague way, as if he should recognize it immediately, but he couldn’t place it. He shrugged it off as it wasn’t unpleasant and finished the chocolate with a second bite, the funky aftertaste not so noticeable this time. He felt tempted to go for a second, but decided that could wait until John got home.

If this game didn’t end up putting him to sleep first. 

* * *

John hummed a favorite song to himself as he stepped off the elevator on his way to the apartment. Seeing his old friend Max had left him in a good mood, and they’d ended up talking for hours—reminiscing on the past and catching up on new adventures. Max even had suggested that John’s experiences on the police force could make for a compelling book. John wasn’t so sure.

_“It’s not like my career has been anything extraordinary. I was nothing but a regular cop, murder police. Sex crimes. And the latter wasn’t as kinky as it sounds. Most of the time it just made your skin crawl.”_

_“But that’s the point! People have a glamorized idea of police work thanks to the entertainment media, all these super-detectives in books and on the tv screens. Either that or all they hear about are the bad cops making the news for abuse of power, and bias crimes. I’d love to follow a squad like your former one around for a while and write about what real detective work is like.”_

_“I’m telling you it would never sell. People don’t want the grim, and often boring, reality of it all. They don’t want cases that are never solved or guilty perps who get off on technicalities. Now, if you ever want to help me write the ultimate book on the Kennedy assassination...”_

Alas, Max had been far less enthusiastic about that idea.

John unlocked their front door and heard the television on in the living room. Sounded like the post-game show, which meant he’d no doubt find Fin passed-out on the sofa, as he usually was by the fourth quarter of the game.

“I’m home,” John called nevertheless, not expecting an answer.

“Yay.”

_...Yay?_

John frowned. That wasn’t exactly a typical greeting from Fin. John shed his coat and headed to the living room, where he discovered Fin sitting wide awake, staring in an awe-struck manner at the screen.

“Fin, you all right there?”

“Huh?” Fin glanced up, took a long look at John, and broke out into a big smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” John sat down cautiously next to Fin, wondering why the man was acting so weird. “You okay?” he asked again, reaching to feel his forehead for a fever. Fin only giggled at the touch.

Giggled. Fin was _not_ a man who “giggled”.

“What’s so funny?” John asked.

“You. You’s got...” Fin started giggling again, almost uncontrollably. “Damn... bigges’ ears I ever sssssseen...”

His words were coming out slurred, his eyes looked red...and John looked to the gift bag on the coffee table and noticed the opened chocolate box.

The very _special_ chocolates Max had brought for him, made with cannabis butter.

 _Oh, shit._ Fin had— _thankfully_ —only eaten one. And then two-thirds of an apple pie while he was at it, based on the empty aluminum pie pan in his lap.   _Guess someone got the munchies._ One pot chocolate was clearly more than enough for a man who might have never taken a toke in his life, given his anti-drug atittude. 

John _knew_ he should have stashed those away for his own personal enjoyment (and before Fin could give him Hell for having pot in their house). But he’d been in such a rush to change and get to Max’s reading tonight that he’d forgotten.

“Okay, come on, space cadet.” John reached for the remote and turned the television off. It was time to get his giggling and stupid-high lover to bed. Maybe, if he were lucky, Fin would sleep it off and not even remember anything about tonight come morning. He dropped the pie plate on the coffee table and attempted to get Fin to his feet. But Fin, it seemed, had other plans.

Indeed, as he tried to urge the heavier man up, John got pulled down—nearly _tackled_ to the sofa, Fin smothering him with kisses and pawing at his clothes with a clumsy enthusiasm John hadn’t seen from the other man in years.

And, damn, he wasn’t going to complain. Especially not when he felt that rock hard erection pressing into his thigh, and recalled how marajuana sure could get the blood flowing in all the right places. _Bedtime can wait_ , John thought as he got his own hands under Fin’s shirt, yanking it up over his head and going for another round of deep kisses. 

In fact he might have to try to hit up Max for some more of these chocolates before he headed home, or at least his source for that very special butter. It would certainly make his own experiments in cooking and baking much more interesting in the future...

 


End file.
